


Junction

by msraven



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fix-It, Get Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-23 02:19:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msraven/pseuds/msraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year and a half after the Chitauri attack, Phil returns to his hometown, only to find Clint already there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I believe in neither luck or coincidences

**Author's Note:**

> Junction, CO and its residents are a totally made up town in my head. Any resemblance to actual locations or people is purely accidental.

"So what brings you to Junction?”

Phil has to fight the deeply ingrained instinct to clam up. This isn’t a Hydra agent trying to pull information from him. This is his landlord and soon-to-be boss who is genuinely curious about what has brought Phil from New York, NY to Junction, CO. 

“I spent a few years here as a kid,” Phil explains. “It seemed like a good place to start over.”

 _Or at least make an attempt_ , Phil adds internally. It is, in Phil’s mind, a grand experiment - to see if he’s capable of living a “normal” life after so many years in SHIELD. The agreement between he and Nick had been in place for decades, long before Loki had ever heard of Earth or the Tesseract. In the event one of them was injured enough to be believed dead, they would be allowed to stay that way and given a chance at a life beyond SHIELD. 

Phil had spent the year after the Chitauri attack painstakingly recovering from his near-fatal injury. He’d followed every doctor’s order and endured hours of daily physical therapy to get back into the same, if not better, physical condition he’d been in before being skewered by the demented alien god. Phil had focused every ounce of energy on his recovery and passed every re-qualification exam with flying colors, only to freeze with his hand poised over the dotted line. 

Fury had pulled the papers back, smiled at Phil knowingly, and told him to take his time. So Phil had. He’d unearthed one of his old aliases and traveled everywhere he’d always planned - the Pyramids of Giza, the Great Wall of China, the Great Barrier Reef, and everywhere in between - before realizing that he was using a lengthy vacation to put off a real attempt at starting a new life. Finding an ad for a teaching position at Junction High School had seemed like a stroke of luck, except that Phil didn’t believe in luck. But he’d put together and sent his resume off before thinking too hard about it, had signed a year lease on a house owned by the JHS principal, and was scheduled to start his teaching career in a little over a week. 

“That city must really chew you guys up before spitting you out,” Jake Donaldson is now saying as he walks ahead of Phil. “Clint said the same damn thing when he showed up.”

Phil freezes at the mention of a familiar name. Before he can come to his senses, reminding himself that Clint is a common name, Donaldson has disappeared.

“He’s probably out back checking on the water pipes,” says a woman’s voice behind him. Phil turns to find Mrs. Donaldson, the Junction Elementary School principal and Jake's wife, holding out a bottle of water. “Thought you guys could use something cool to drink.”

Phil gladly accepts the water. The day was warmer than he’d expected for the mountains of Colorado. “Thank you, Mrs. Donaldson.”

“Macie, please. I get enough of that from the kids and Mrs. Donaldson is his _mother_ ,” she responds with a dramatic shudder that gains the desired effect of pulling a smile from Phil.

“Then it’s Phil,” he says easily.

There’s a beat of silence as they each take a drink of water before Macie continues from her husband’s earlier comment. “Jake was referring to our last tenant. He was from New York, too. Although he didn’t stay here very long.”

“Didn’t take to the mountain air?” Phil asks casually through the sudden thudding of his heart. He berates himself for trying to draw lines where he knows none exist. The real world, he tells himself, isn’t filled with dastardly plots and spies around every corner.

“Nah,” says Jake, entering the room and speaking as if he’d been there the whole time. “Exact opposite, actually. Barton bought the old Mickelson place and the bar downtown. Only place to get a drink or decent cup of coffee in town, so you’ll probably meet him sooner than later.”

Phil’s hand doesn’t shake when Jake gives him the keys and the Donaldsons take their leave, offering to show him around town the next day. Phil declines, using the need to drive into Denver as an excuse. He sits heavily on the floor as soon as the door closes behind the friendly couple and tries to pull himself together. Phil doesn’t believe in coincidence any more than luck, but he still tries to convince himself that just because he’s only met one Clint Barton doesn’t mean another one doesn’t exist. That he’s also from New York is just a fluke - it has to be. Phil tries valiantly for fifteen minutes before grabbing his keys and walking out.

It's not difficult to find the aforementioned bar - downtown Junction is no more than a few blocks long. Phil walks casually down the street, glad to have the gathering dusk as a small measure of cover as he gets closer to his destination. The entire street is well lit, but the light from Orion’s Belt exudes a warmth that even Phil is drawn toward. He steps just close enough to see through one of the large windows and into the bar, his heart suddenly feeling like it wants to jump clear out of his chest. Because standing just behind the row of taps, eyes and face alight with laughter in a way Phil has never seen in all of their years working together, is _the_ Clint Barton - master marksman, former mercenary, senior agent, and Avenger.


	2. This is not an op

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This isn’t an op, Coulson,” Barton protests. “This is my _life_."

Finding the old Mickelson place proves a little more difficult. Phil eventually uses less than legal means to find the house whose deed now belongs to Clinton F. Barton. It’s across town from the Donaldson’s and Phil can’t help but think it looks cozy when he gets his first look at the small house nestled in amongst the trees. He leans his shoulder against a tree that is just outside the halo of light from the porch and settles in to wait. Phil isn’t overly surprised when the thud of a throwing knife embedding itself in the bark by his cheek announces Barton’s arrival before the man steps into view.

“Please step out into the light,” the archer requests. Barton’s hands are relaxed and empty at his sides, but Phil knows he’s far from unarmed.

Phil takes a step forward and watches as all the color drains alarmingly from Barton’s face. The younger man sways on his feet and Phil just stops himself from taking another step forward, his deeply ingrained training reminding him that making sudden movements toward deadly assassins is never advisable. Barton recovers himself and stares at Phil for another few seconds before speaking.

“I should have known. Fucking Fury,” he mutters with a shake of his head. “I...I really can’t have this discussion out here.”

Barton walks briskly by Phil and into the house, leaving the door open behind him. Phil accepts it as a silent invitation to follow him inside. He turns toward the only light visible in the otherwise dark house, passing what looks like a pool table, before entering the kitchen. _Cozy_ , Phil thinks again as he takes in the newly remodeled and clearly well-used kitchen. He tries to imagine the man he knows puttering around the kitchen and finds it less difficult than he would have thought.

The man in question is now bent over the counter, hands braced on either side of the large sink, with his head bowed. 

“What are you doing here, Agent Barton?” Phil asks without preamble.

Barton’s laugh is hollow as he looks up at Phil. “First off, I’m not Agent anything anymore. Secondly, shouldn’t I be asking _you_ that question?” he asks with more than a touch of bitterness. “Considering you’re the one that’s supposed to be dead and all?”

“Fair enough,” Phil concedes calmly and moves to sit at one of the stools against the bar. “Fury, at my suggestion, exaggerated the extent of my injuries in the hopes of rallying the Avengers to move past their petty squabbles. I’ve spent the last year or so in recovery and am now taking the time to decide if I want to go back.”

Barton straightens, leans back against the counter opposite Phil, and crosses his arms across his chest. “It worked.”

“I know,” Phil admits. “I’ve seen the news footage.”

“And you’ve been out of the loop otherwise?” Barton asks.

“I chose to remain uninformed of SHIELD and the Avengers’ movements.” Phil realizes now that this should have clued him in on his reluctance to return. “From what I saw, you were recovered from Loki’s control. So I’m still at a loss as to what you’re doing here.”

Barton says nothing for a minute and Phil waits silently, knowing that any prodding on his part will be in vain. The archer will speak when he’s ready.

“SHIELD needed to heal after everything that happened,” Barton finally offers. “And they couldn’t do that with me there.”

“They were blaming you?” Phil asks, surprised.

“Not to my face,” Barton shrugs. There’s no contempt in his voice, only resignation. “Intellectually, they knew I was under Loki’s control. But it’s hard to stop your gut reaction to someone who tried to kill you and it’s those reactions that cost lives.”

Phil wants to say something to counteract what Barton’s just told him, but he can’t find the words. They had kept it small the last time, with only Phil and Nick ever seeing Hawkeye in action before they’d recruited him into SHIELD. Phil had been the recipient of a well-placed arrow to the thigh and too aware that it could have easily been in his eye to hold a grudge. So while he understands that Barton doesn’t blame the other SHIELD agents for his exile, Phil can’t help but be disappointed in the agency for letting him go. 

There are a dozen other questions Phil wants to ask - Why Junction? What made him stay? How do you build a life after SHIELD? - but something tells him that none of them will be well received. 

“So I’m guessing you’re the new Calc teacher Jake’s been raving about?” Barton asks finally, breaking the silence. 

“I figure that Stark’s given me plenty of practice in dealing with hormonal teenagers,” Phil responds.

Barton’s grin makes an appearance, but it’s short lived. “Leaving here’s going to be hard,” he says wistfully, looking around at his kitchen.

“Why would you leave?” Phil asks and Barton’s eyes snap to his in surprise. Phil doesn’t stop to think too long about the compulsion, but it’s clear that Barton has made a life in Junction and Phil doesn’t want to be the cause for him to lose another home. 

“I’m not asking you to leave,” Phil continues. “We’ve managed ops together in the past.”

“This isn’t an op, Coulson,” Barton protests. “This is my _life_. Or it was supposed to be.”

“An even better reason to stay,” Coulson reasons. “I’m giving myself a year to decide if I’m cut out for this. It seems like a waste for you to leave if I’m not sure I’m even staying. And it’s not that small a town.”

“You’re renting a house from and working for my best friends,” Barton reminds him. “I spend a lot of time with them and you’ll be living next door. Plus most of the school staff are regulars at the bar. We won’t be able to avoid each other.”

“I didn’t say we had to,” Phil points out. “The only thing we need to do is pretend we haven’t met.”

Barton chews on his lip for a moment, thinking Phil’s idea through. “You think it would work?” he asks, hesitant. “I...I understand the need to start over. I don’t want to get in your way.”

“It’ll be fine,” Phil assures him. “We worked together for years within SHIELD. How different could it be living in Junction?”


	3. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Careful,” Brandon warns. “Clint says we tend to grow on people like moss.”
> 
> “Your face looks like moss,” teases Haley.

True to Clint’s warning, Phil finds himself being dragged to Orion’s Belt at the end of his first week. Jake and several of the staff say that Phil deserves a celebratory drink for surviving his introduction to the teenagers of Junction and Phil has to agree. But judging by how several of the teachers primp before they head downtown, Phil is only a minor reason for why they’re invading Clint’s bar this evening. 

“Barton!” Jake calls out as soon as they walk in the door. “Let me introduce you to the newest JHS staff member.”

Clint stiffens for a split second before coming around the bar, wiping his hands on a towel as he goes. Phil is curious at how Clint’s going to play out this introduction and is a little floored by the greeting he gets. Clint’s face is friendly and completely open - a wide smile making him look younger than his years. There isn’t a trace of guile or deception in his eyes. This is, Phil thinks for lack of a better description, Clint Barton in his natural form and Phil can’t help being disappointed that he hasn’t seen it until today.

“You must be Phil,” Clint says holding out a hand. “I’m Clint Barton. Welcome to Orion’s Belt.”

“Thanks. Phil James,” Phil responds, taking the hand offered to him. He can’t help but note that Clint’s hand still bears the same, familiar calluses, so it’s possible that the other man hasn’t quite given up the possibility of returning to SHIELD.

“Nice to meet you,” Clint says warmly and gestures toward the bar. “Have a seat. First drink’s on me.”

“That’s really not necessary,” Phil protests.

“Yes it is. I know most of the kids in your class,” Clint responds with a laugh and Phil acquiesces. He is embarrassed to admit, even to himself, that Phil has rarely heard the sound of Clint’s laughter.

The rest of the evening passes comfortably with the other teachers and Clint sharing some of the most colorful horror stories they have about the town’s high school population. It turns out that Clint knows half of Phil’s class because he volunteers as the archery coach. 

“Thank god for the Hunger Games,” Clint mutters wryly, raising his water glass in a toast.

It takes Phil less than an hour to conclude that pretending not to know Clint will not be a hardship. The Agent Barton he knew is a pale shadow compared to the lively personality that is Clint tending bar in Junction and it leaves Phil wondering what else he’s never known about Clint Barton.

It's Fury who bears full responsibility for Barton earning his reputation as insubordinate and difficult to work with. They had, upon recruiting Hawkeye, paired him with a handler that neither appreciated or accepted input from junior agents. Barton’s actions had saved lives and the mission, but the damage was done. The sniper had gone through four other senior agents before Fury had finally given in to Phil’s original request to become Barton’s handler. The ease in which the two of them worked together had done nothing for Barton’s reputation, but had cemented Phil as the biggest badass in SHIELD. 

Barton’s reputation outside of missions wasn’t much better. He was seen as aloof and standoffish - preferring to distance himself from the rest of the SHIELD agents. Phil had only ever known Barton to spend time outside of HQ with Fury and Natasha, although Sitwell seemed to enjoy the archer’s often scathing sense of humor. Fury had once suggested to Phil that the two of them would get along, but Phil had dismissed it as useless meddling. He had already corrected Barton’s mission performance, Phil didn’t need to be responsible for the asset’s social life as well. 

Phil now realizes, as he makes his way home from Orion’s Belt, that he’s been just as guilty of letting Barton’s reputation stand in the way of a potential friendship. Maybe seeing Clint away from SHIELD could be a good opportunity to get to know the man better. 

~~~

Phil is still mulling on the thought a few weeks later when he walks up to the Donaldson house to find a teenage girl scowling at him from the porch. Phil has seen the Donaldson’s son and had thought their daughter was younger since Phil hadn’t seen her at the high school.

“Hello. I’m Phil James. Are your folks home?” Phil asks, completely ignoring the girl’s unwelcoming look.

“They say you’re from New York,” she says like an accusation.

Before Phil can respond, Clint’s voice pipes up from behind him. “Jesus, Haley. Stand down. He’s from New York, not another planet.”

Phil watches as Haley’s face morphs into a happy grin. She runs down the steps and into Clint’s open arms. Phil turns toward them, noting the pallor of Haley’s skin and how small she looks in the archer’s arms. Clint gives the girl a kiss to the top of her head before looking up at Phil.

“Heya, Phil!” Clint says with a grin. “Don’t mind this rugrat. She watches too many conspiracy movies.”

“I do not!” Haley protests.

“Yes, you do,” Clint argues and wraps his arm around her shoulder. “Now introduce yourself properly to Phil.”

“Hello, I’m Haley Donaldson.” Haley holds out her hand and Phil fights not to frown at being able to feel the small bones in her hand as it sits in his.

“Go get your brother,” Clint prods after the introduction. 

“Ugh. Does he have to come every time?” Haley whines. 

“We’ve talked about this,” Clint reminds her. “What do I always say?”

“That chemo doesn’t make me special,” Haley says sullenly as she stomps back toward the house, before turning to grin cheekily at them in a way that only teenagers are capable of. “But being Haley does.”

“Go!” Clint commands.

Haley runs into the house without additional comment and Phil turns to Clint with an inquisitive tilt of his head. “Chemo?” 

“Yeah,” Clint replies with a sigh. “Diagnosed a little over a year ago. She’s done with the treatments, but they need her white cell count to get higher before she’s allowed back in school. I take them down for fro-yo and a stop at the comic book store every few Saturdays.”

Clint shrugs as if apologizing for such a small act in the face of the all-encompassing disease and Phil suddenly understands. Haley is another Natasha. Clint has always been drawn to helping those whose lives have spiraled uncontrollably downward. Phil knew that providing Natasha stability is what made Clint stay at SHIELD and it seems like Haley is his reason for staying in Junction. 

Phil doesn’t realize he’s spoken his thoughts out loud until Clint responds. “Not the only reason.” There’s something indiscernible in Clint’s eyes that leaves Phil unsure which instance he’s speaking of.

“Shotgun!” 

The boy Phil has seen before comes tearing out of the house, Clint just managing to grab the back of his shirt as he flies by. The boy stops short with a grunt.

“Did your parents raise a pair of Neanderthals?” Clint complains as he manhandles the boy into facing Phil. “Introduce yourself.”

“I’m Brandon,” the boy says. “You’re the guy living next door.”

“Phil James,” Phil offers as Clint rolls his eyes fondly. “And yes, I’m your next door neighbor for the rest of the school year.”

“Careful,” Brandon warns. “Clint says we tend to grow on people like moss.”

“Your face looks like moss,” teases Haley as she walks back out of the house, her mother trailing behind her.

“Dinner will be ready at 6:30,” Macie says. “We’re having lasagna.”

Clint opens his mouth to protest, but shuts it at Macie’s pointed look. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re invited to join us as well, Phil.” Macie adds. Phil turns to her in surprise before finding himself nodding - there was definitely more order than invitation in her tone.

 _Like moss_ , Clint mouths at him before being dragged off by the kids. Phil grins after them, amused by the entire exchange.

“Was there something else you needed, Phil?” Macie asks.

“Yes,” Phil replies, refocusing his attention. “The dishwasher seems to be acting up. I wasn’t sure if there was someone you recommend I call.”

“Oh! You actually need Clint,” Macie says. “I’m sure he’ll offer to take a look after dinner.”

~~~

As Macie had predicted, the upper half of Clint ends up wedged under Phil’s kitchen counter later that night.

“This board tends to shake loose after a while. Sorry about that. I meant to get a replacement, but ended up moving out before I could,” Clint says as Phil grabs them a couple of beers and Clint wiggles his way back out of the cupboard. “This should hold until the new part arrives.”

Clint accepts the beer gratefully and remains sitting on the floor with his back to the temporarily repaired appliance. Phil slides down opposite of him and takes a sip of his own beer.

“Can I ask you something?” Phil asks, curious about something he noticed the first night.

“Sure,” Clint answers without hesitation.

“What’s with the ring?”

Clint startles and looks down at the gold band on his left ring finger. “Oh, that.” He smiles sheepishly and continues. “I wasn’t interested in anything romantic and the closest thing I could get to describing how I felt when I arrived was mourning, so this seemed easiest.” 

“Makes sense,” Phil agrees.

“I sometimes forget I have it on,” Clint says, holding his hand up to the light before dropping it into his lap. “Can I ask you a question back?” 

“I suppose that’s fair,” Phil replies with a nod.

“Why fake your death? Why not just retire?” 

“That’s two questions,” Phil points out and Clint rolls his eyes. “Like I said the other night, the Avengers needed a push.”

“What about the rest of SHIELD?” Clint asks.

“What about it?” Phil responds, genuinely unsure of what Clint is asking him.

“You’re willing to believe your death helped give the Avengers the final push to work together, but think the rest of us were unaffected?” Clint sounds amazed at the idea. 

“Stark’s got a guilty conscience a mile wide and Rogers has issues losing men under his command,” Phil reasons. “Banner was already making friends with Stark, Thor’s hero streak is as big as Stark’s, and I never questioned Natasha. They didn’t need much of a push and I knew Fury would find a way to sell it. The rest of SHIELD,” Phil shrugs. “Well...we all know what we signed up for.”

“So you think that just because we understand the risks means that death doesn’t matter?” Clint fires back. “That’s pretty stupid thinking, Phil.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Phil corrects and looks down at the beer in his hand. “It’s just...I was doing my job.”

“Nat cried for you,” Clint says softly and Phil’s head snaps up. “I couldn’t go to your service, so Nat and I got roaring drunk before I left. I watched her cry for you and I know it wasn’t because of the alcohol.”

Clint stands and places his empty beer bottle on the counter. Phil can only look up at him, shocked into silence by the archer’s words and the hurt on his face. 

“Whatever you may have thought. You should know that your death didn’t go unnoticed. Not by a long shot.”


	4. Stating the Obvious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They continue on as they had before, with Clint being welcoming and friendly whenever they see each other and Phil still trying to figure out where he fits in this town - if this town fits in his life.

Phil is surprised when his interactions with Clint don’t become strained as a result of the their conversation about Phil’s death. They continue on as they had before, with Clint being welcoming and friendly whenever they see each other and Phil still trying to figure out where he fits in this town - if this town fits in his life. It’s something Phil thinks he’d like to discuss with Clint, but they haven’t been alone since Clint had walked out of his kitchen. Brandon tags along when Clint installs the new part for the dishwasher and Phil isn’t sure how to approach the younger man when he isn’t at the bar or with the Donaldsons.

Instead, Phil resolves to try harder at work and agrees to help coach the Academic Decathlon team. He goes in search of Sally McBride, the other coach, one day at lunch only to find her missing from both her classroom and the break room. Phil finally swings by Jake’s office only to have him laugh a little at Phil’s inquiry. 

“It’s the second Wednesday of the month,” Jake says and then continues at Phil’s blank look, “You’ll find her with Jane in the chemistry lab.”

Phil figures there’s an inside joke in there somewhere and walks off to find the wayward History teacher. He finds Sally and Jane Mitchum huddled by one of windows that look out over the Elementary school next door. Intrigued, Phil inches silently closer until he can see what has caught the women’s attention. 

The smile that spreads across Phil’s face is completely involuntary as he sees Clint surrounded by a group of chattering children. Clint is clearly trying to teach them the basics of archery because all the kids are holding miniature bows and blunt-tipped arrows. Phil watches as the girl Clint is currently coaching gets into position, her face scrunched adorably in concentration. She releases the arrow and then throws her arms around Clint’s neck when it embeds itself into the target a few feet away. Her bow smacks Clint hard in the back of the head, but he only grins wider and hugs her back.

“I think my ovaries are going to explode,” Sally says and Phil clears his throat behind them.

Both women spin around, red-faced and clearly embarrassed to be found ogling a man teaching a group of children. Phil gives them the blandest smile he can muster and asks Sally when the Decathlon team meets after school - Phil has learned it is best to save blackmail material on co-workers for when it’s most needed.

The exchange provides Phil with a new insight as they walk into Clint's bar at the end of the week. Phil has begun joining the group of JHS staff that are regulars at Orion's Belt and, unsurprisingly, Sally never misses an outing. Her attempts to flirt with Clint are glaringly obvious, causing Phil to spend much of the night hiding a smile in his beer.

“Tell me about her, your wife,” Phil hears Sally say soothingly from the corner of the bar. “It must have been difficult losing her so young.”

“My husband, actually,” Clint responds, a note of sadness in his voice and Phil looks up in surprise.

Clint’s back is to Phil and he’s looking down where Sally’s hand is holding his, her thumb resting on the fake wedding ring. Sally’s face is comical in its attempt to look consoling while processing the shocking information she’s just been given.

“So...you’re bi?” Sally asks hopefully.

“No,” Clint responds with a shake of his head. 

Sally doesn’t manage to hide the disappointment from her face and Clint awkwardly pulls his hand away. He pats Sally’s hand once in apology and turns away, Clint’s eyes widening when he finds Phil watching the exchange. A moment of charged silence falls between them and Phil doesn’t know how or if he should try to break it.

A rowdy group of tourists enter the bar, demanding Clint’s attention and breaking the tension. Phil is left feeling both bereft and relieved at the same time. 

~~~

The following Monday, Phil looks up at the sudden silence in his classroom to find Haley Donaldson standing in the doorway. All of the other kids stare as she continues to stand uncomfortably at the front of the class.

“Please take your seat, Ms. Donaldson,” Phil requests and motions toward an empty seat next to the windows. “Now, to go over the examples I sent you home with last night...” Phil says while turning toward the whiteboard. Out of the corner of his eye, Phil can see the relieved smile on Haley’s face as the class turns their attention to the complicated equation Phil is writing out. 

The rest of the hour passes smoothly and Phil lets the incident slip from his mind. He doesn't understand the importance of his actions until the next morning. Clint is leaning against his car with a steaming cup of coffee and holds it out to Phil as he steps closer. Phil accepts the cup with a raised eyebrow. 

“Haley probably won’t say ever say it, but thank you,” Clint says in explanation. “She told me what you did yesterday.”

Phil takes a sip of the coffee and has to pause in appreciation, reminded that he has yet to visit Orion’s Belt during coffee hours.

“I didn’t do anything special,” admits Phil, mimicking Clint’s position against the car. 

“That’s the point,” Clint says. “Everyone in town knows what she’s gone through and it doesn’t help that she’s the principal’s kid. I basically had to threaten Jake that I’d put an arrow in his ass if he even thought about walking Haley to her classes. Every other teacher she had that day made a huge fuss over her. And Haley...” Clint sighs and Phil gets the feeling the archer would do anything to take this all away from his friend. “Haley just wants to be like every other kid.”

Phil hums in agreement and they stand together in comfortable silence until Phil’s internal clock dings in his head.

“I should probably head to the school,” Phil says, the apology in his voice catching him a little off-guard. 

“Oh!” Clint exclaims and jumps off the car. “Sorry. Sorry for keeping you.”

“No,” Phil is quick to reassure him. “No. It’s not a problem. I’m not late and this was nice of you. Coffee is always appreciated.”

“Yeah, I remembered that,” Clint says and ducks his head bashfully. 

A weird kind of buzzing start up in the back of Phil’s head and he finds himself struggling for a way to keep the conversation going.

“I hear you’re having a Halloween party?” he asks.

“Well...sort of,” Clint responds and stuffs his hands in his pockets while bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. Phil is just noticing that the other man is dressed for a jog. “You’ve probably noticed that the town goes a little crazy over Halloween.”

“Everything being covered in spooky decorations was a bit of a clue,” Phil says dryly and Clint grins.

“The houses are too spaced apart for the kids to do a proper trick-or-treat, so they all come downtown. Each of the stores and restaurants all set up tables or booths for the kids to visit. A lot of the people with older kids or babysitters usually end up at my place by default.”

“Do you want some help setting up?” Phil offers, knowing that most of Clint’s staff are the ones with younger kids who’ll be trick-or-treating. 

“That’d be great!” Clint beams. “It would be awesome if you could get there a little before six? Some of the younger kids like to get a head start before dark.”

“I’ll be there,” promises Phil and is rewarded with another large smile.

“Have a good day at school!” Clint yells as he jogs backwards a few yards before finally turning away. 

~~~

Clint really wasn’t kidding about the town enjoying Halloween, but Phil is still surprised to find nearly all of the high school kids in costume on the 31st. Phil’s own costume is one of his old suits, topped off by a pair of dark sunglasses and a neuralizer peaking out of his front pocket. While the outfit would have gotten him bemused head shakes at SHIELD, it earns Phil a few approving nods from the students at JHS. 

The Avengers are, not surprisingly, the most common costumes among the kids, but it’s Haley’s costume that has Phil’s jaw almost dropping in shock. Her costume is a near-replica of Hawkeye’s field uniform, complete with a bow and quiver strapped to her back. Haley smirks at the awed compliments she receives from the others and throws a knowing look at Phil. He wonders exactly how much of Clint’s background she knows about and decides it’s worth asking Clint in a few hours. 

Except that, when he walks into Orion’s Belt at a quarter to six, any logical thought goes flying out of his head. Phil will deny with his next dying breath that the first time he admits finding Clint stupidly attractive is while the man is wearing a Captain America costume. In his defense, it’s not so much the costume but the way that an endearing blush makes its way up Clint’s neck, over his face, and up to the tips of his ears. The costume itself leaves very little to the imagination and Phil can’t help taking in his fill.

“You may want to spend the night behind the bar,” Phil suggests, “or, you know, wear an apron...on both sides.”

Clint flushes an even brighter shade of red, swears, and trudges to the back room, muttering something about killing Haley. Phil doubles over, laughing until his sides ache and Clint comes back into the room wearing a pair of track pants over the bottom of the costume. 

“But Sally and Jane will be sooooo disappointed,” Phil teases, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. It’s totally worth the wet towel that smacks him in the face.


	5. Spiraling towards an epiphany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint throws his head back and laughs as he throws the car into gear. Phil follows the line of his throat and the buzzing in his head transitions into a fluttering in the pit of his stomach.

Phil and Clint slip into an easy friendship after Halloween. Phil starts spending more time at the bar, usually on nights when there’s an NFL game on, and asks Clint for help moving in some bookcases Phil found at a yard sale - providing pizza and beer as compensation.

Clint begins randomly bringing coffee for Phil before school. There’s no rhyme or reason to it, as far as Phil can tell, but there’s always a loose excuse - for beating the tourists at darts or Haley saying Phil looked tired or the dog next door waking him up early. Phil tells himself that it’s his growing addiction to the coffee and not its maker that has him frowning in disappointment on mornings when Clint isn’t outside leaning against his car. 

It’s the Saturday before Thanksgiving when Phil answers a knock at his door to find Haley standing on his porch. 

“Hey Mr. James,” Haley says. “We were headed down to the comic book store and thought you’d maybe want to come along? Clint said you liked comic books.”

Phil glances down to where Clint and Brandon are standing at the bottom of the stairs. Brandon is feigning boredom, as is common with kids his age, and Clint is trying to look nonchalant, but the hope shining in his eyes is too bright to deny.

“Sure,” Phil responds and grabs his jacket from the rack by the door. “I call shotgun.”

Brandon’s head snaps up in shock while Haley giggles approvingly next to Phil. They pile into Clint’s car and Phil feels that same buzzing in the back of his head when Clint turns to him with a happy grin.

“So,” Clint says. “Fro-yo before or after the store?”

“After,” Phil replies seriously. “Sticky fingers and comic books shouldn’t mix.”

Clint throws his head back and laughs as he puts the car into gear. Phil follows the line of his throat and the buzzing in his head transitions into a fluttering in the pit of his stomach.

The comic book store turns out to be medium-sized, with a decent book selection and a fair bit of other merchandise scattered throughout the store. Phil is thumbing through a stack of older books - you never know what you’ll stumble upon - when Haley comes up to him with an annoyed huff.

“That guy is such a creeper,” the teenager complains. “He keeps asking Clint out and won’t take the hint he’s not interested.”

Phil glances over his shoulder and, sure enough, one of the store clerks has Clint cornered by a Captain America display. Clint glances over at Phil and Haley, eyes conveying a plea for help.

“We should probably go rescue him,” Haley says and grips Phil’s elbow with surprisingly strong fingers. 

Phil follows wordlessly until they’re standing in front of the display.

“So...” says Haley loudly. “What do you think Phil? Is this really a Captain America helmet?”

“Uh, no, it can’t be,” Phil answers honestly and everyone but Clint turns to look at him in shock. Clint bites his lip to hide a grin and ducks his head. He deftly maneuvers around the distracted clerk to stand next to Phil.

“What do you mean it can’t be?!” the clerk exclaims. “Of course it’s a real Captain America helmet.”

“Actually, it’s not,” Phil responds evenly. “Captain America was lost in 1945 and this style of helmet didn’t begin production until the sixties.”

“What?! That can’t be...” the clerk looks back up at the helmet before turning indignantly toward Phil. “Who are you anyway?”

“This is Phil,” Clint says taking a small step forward, his body language suddenly making him seem larger and more menacing without taking away from his relaxed posture. “He’s a good friend of mine and is about a big an expert you can find on Captain America.”

There is no hidden inflection in how Clint says “good friend” and Phil really doesn’t know what spurs him to do it, but his hand is suddenly sitting possessively at the small of Clint’s back. He feels the muscles tense under his hand for a moment before Clint relaxes back against his hand.

“I’m just a fan,” Phil says passively. “But you should probably check on your stock. There are a lot of disreputable dealers around, especially now that Captain America’s back in action.”

Brandon appears, as if on cue, to bemoan his lack of fro-yo, so they make their purchases with the other clerk and leave the store with Haley smirking the entire time. Judging by how Haley insults his choice of toppings, Brandon’s non-stop questions about Captain America, and Clint’s soft smile, Phil is fairly sure he’s secured his place in their regular comic book runs.

~~~

“What are you doing Thursday?” Clint asks the next night when Phil arrives at the bar to watch Sunday Night Football. 

“Uh, you mean Thanksgiving?” Phil confirms.

“Yeah. Bar’s closed that day.”

“You aren’t spending it with the Donaldsons?” Phil asks, automatically assuming that Clint already had plans for Thanksgiving.

“Nah,” Clint replies and places a Guinness in front of Phil. “They have to go to Jake’s folks’ place and _nobody_ volunteers to visit Jake’s mother.”

“Oh. I don’t have any plans for Thursday,” Phil says.

“Awesome! Want to come over for dinner?” Clint is a flurry of movement as he mixes a cocktail for another patron.

“Um...sure, sounds great,” Phil replies and feels the flutter again as Clint spares a second to glance over with a smile.

“Show up around one, okay? So we can catch all the pre-game stuff,” Clint says before sliding over to the other end of the bar to take an order.

Phil knocks on Clint’s door at precisely one o’clock on Thursday. He ignores Clint’s smirk at his promptness and hands him the bottle of wine he brought for dinner. Clint nods approvingly at the label before wandering back toward the kitchen.

What Phil can see of Clint’s house in the daylight doesn’t change his initial assessment of cozy. The living room to his left looks like how a typical bachelor’s would - a larger than necessary flat screen television across from a comfortable looking black leather couch, flanked by two modern leather recliners - but there are also purple accented throw pillows, what looks like a hand-woven purple afghan, various knick-knacks and several picture frames scattered around the room. There is an antique pool table in the formal dining room and Phil can imagine Clint’s bow callused hands restoring it to its original glory. Everything in the house holds a small portion of the man who owns it. 

Phil makes his way into the kitchen just as Clint is shutting one of the oven doors. There are, in fact, two ovens in the kitchen - one under the microwave by the walk-in pantry and one as part of the professional range taking up most of the far wall. The wide granite countertop wraps around two of the walls, past the sink in front of the window, and to a raised bar by the kitchen nook. All of the appliances were top of the line, clearly a kitchen meant for cooking and not just put together for show.

“I didn’t know you cooked,” Phil comments and grabs a chip from the spread of snacks on the kitchen table.

“Couldn’t really use the cafeteria kitchens at HQ or the ‘carrier,” Clint responds as he chops toasted bread into cubes.

“I forgot you never got a place of your own.” Phil loads a small plate with snacks and sits at the bar, twisting slightly to see the smaller television Clint has set up.

“Never saw the point,” Clint says and then points to Phil’s plate. “You’re free to take that to living room.”

“Nah, I’m good.” 

“Anyway,” Clint continues, stealing a carrot stick off Phil’s plate. “Nick and Nat let me borrow their kitchens every once in awhile, so that usually took care of any cravings I had to cook. Plus over a decade at SHIELD without needing to pay rent or a mortgage left me a hefty bank account to use for moving here.”

“Are you investing it like I suggested?” Phil asks.

“Yes, sir,” Clint replies cheekily before turning serious. “If you have time, maybe you could look over some of the mutual funds now that my status has changed?”

“You mean longer-term?” Phil clarifies. Most SHIELD agents kept to higher risk, short-term investments. 

“Yeah. Ow!” Clint snatches his hand back from reaching at Phil’s plate after Phil smacks it with his fork. Clint pouts and walks around to fix his own plate of snacks. 

Phil turns on the stool to keep facing him as he answers. “I can take a look, but you’re probably better off getting an actual financial adviser.”

Clint makes a sour face and Phil grins. “I know you’ve already hired an accountant to deal with your payroll and taxes,” Phil points out. 

“I know, but that was more to make sure I kept my staff paid and the IRS from throwing me in jail,” Clint reasons. “A financial adviser just seems so...I don’t know...adult.”

“God forbid anyone accuse you of growing up, Peter Pan,” Phil says and chuckles when Clint responds by sticking his tongue out at him.

The next few hours pass comfortably with Clint somehow managing to entertain Phil, watch the game, and finish cooking at the same time. Phil gets his own hand smacked when he steals one too many marshmallows and then mimics Clint’s pouts until the archer throws another one at his forehead. They opt to eat their dinners in the living room instead of the kitchen nook and agree to put off the dishes until the end of the game. 

When Phil wakes from an unplanned nap, he finds the game long over and Clint sleeping soundly on his shoulder. He glances down at the archer, feeling a smile tug at his lips at the younger man’s peaceful expression. Phil gets the same buzz in the back of head and, combined with the flutter in his stomach, he acknowledges that maybe he and Clint are headed toward something beyond friendship. 

Phil watches as Clint wakes slowly, nuzzling against Phil’s shoulder a little, before he sits up and stretches. Clint gives him a sleepy smile before heading back into the kitchen for coffee and pumpkin pie, and Phil thinks that maybe that’s where Clint’s wanted them to go all along. 

~~~

The realization leaves Phil confused and a little hurt when, a few weeks later, he hears Clint asking one of his staff to take his shift on Friday night because he has a date. Phil tries not to be bitter - it’s not like either of them had announced any intentions - when Friday rolls around and he’s stuck chaperoning the Winter Formal at the high school while Clint’s out on his date. 

Phil feels a little better when Sally takes an extra long, very appreciative look when he shows up at the dance in one of his nicer suits. She makes a point of keeping her hand on his arm while they converse about the Decathlon team and Phil basks for a moment about someone finding him attractive. The moment doesn’t last very long and he’s about to gently remove her hand when it clenches tightly around his arm.

“That is just not _fair_ ,” Sally nearly wails while looking over Phil’s shoulder.

Phil turns to see what Sally is looking at and can’t help the small gasp that escapes from his throat. Standing at the door of the auditorium is Haley Donaldson, looking breathtaking in a deep purple gown and wearing a long black wig whose hair trails over one of her shoulders. Beside Haley, with her hand tucked into his elbow and wearing a beautiful dark grey suit, is Clint. Phil tries to take in the details of the suit - a rare occurrence for Clint in any life - but his eyes are drawn to Clint’s face as it radiates pride and love and affection as he looks down at Haley. 

Clint leads Haley further into the auditorium and stops just short of the dance floor. Clint turns to face Haley, takes both of her hands in his, and turns his head meaningfully to the right. Standing nervously a few feet away is a boy Phil recognizes as one of Clint’s archery kids. Phil refocuses back on Haley who is now glaring harshly at Clint. There’s just enough light in the dim auditorium for Phil to see what they’re saying.

“I can’t believe you did this,” Haley says angrily. 

“He deserves a second chance. We were all scared back then,” Clint reasons calmly.

“None of the rest of you ran away,” Haley retorts, shooting a glare at the boy who sets his jaw and glares defiantly back.

“None of the rest of us are a seventeen year old boy afraid of losing his first love,” Clint argues. “And let’s not forget that he didn’t stay away for long. That you’ve been the one keeping him away. You both deserve another chance.”

Haley ducks her head and Phil is barely able to see her lips moving. “He doesn’t want me.”

Clint lifts her chin with his fingers. “Now you’re just being dense. Look at him, kiddo. He loves you.”

Haley turns her head in Clint’s grip and the boy’s eyes melt from defiant to pleading. Haley turns back to Clint with eyes full of fear. “And what if he decides he doesn’t want me again?” she asks.

“Then I’ll hold him down while you beat the crap out him and then we’ll find someone who actually deserves you,” Clint responds. 

This coaxes a watery smile out of Haley and she reaches up to kiss Clint’s cheek before finally turning to the boy patiently watching their exchange. The two teenagers each take a few tentative steps toward one another before rushing the remaining distance into each other’s arms. From what Phil can see, they’re both saying “I’m sorry” over and over.

Phil isn’t sure what his face is conveying as Clint walks toward him, but it’s enough to make Sally’s hand drop from his arm with a huff. It also makes Clint blush and duck his head as he moves to stand next to Phil. 

“Hey,” Clint says, bumping his shoulder against Phil’s.

“You’re a good man, Clint Barton,” Phil replies and bumps back. 

They watch Haley and her boyfriend - David, Phil learns later - dance for a minute until Jake appears next to Clint and hands him a cup of punch.

“You’re sure about this?” Jake asks.

“They’re good kids,” Clint responds. “Don’t you remember how you felt the first time you saw Macie? The first time she really smiled at you and you realized she liked you back? Look at them.” Clint motions with the cup at how the teenagers are gazing at each other with love-struck smiles. “Everyone deserves to know what that feels like.”

“You’re still driving them home though, right?” Jake asks like any good father.

“Of course I am,” Clint replies indignantly. “You think I’d actually leave them alone? They’re _teenagers_.”

Phil laughs at Jake’s frown while Clint takes a sip of the punch and promptly spits it back in the cup.

“Jesus! Where did the kids even get this kind of alcohol?”

“Is it spiked already?” asks Jake, taking the cup from Clint and taking a sniff.

“It’s either spiked or someone’s trying to dissolve the punch bowl,” Clint answers and Jake takes off to get rid of the offending beverage.

“You need someone to ride shotgun when you take the kids home?” Phil offers. 

Clint looks at Phil in surprise before smiling. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

It takes a couple of hours for Haley’s energy to start waning and they decide it’s time to head home. The kids are well behaved and only stare lovingly into each other’s eyes on the trip to Haley’s house. Clint and Phil dutifully look away as David gives Haley a sweet kiss at her doorstep. David wears a dopey grin for the drive to his house and gives Clint a crushing bear hug from the backseat before bounding out of the car and through his front door.

They drive to Phil’s house and Phil places his hand over Clint’s on the gearshift when they stop. “Walk me to my door?” he asks softly.

Clint gives him another surprised smile before moving his hand to turn off the engine. They walk slowly up to Phil's porch and Phil turns, taking Clint’s left hand and rubbing his thumb meaningfully against the ring still sitting on his finger.

“I feel like I should apologize,” Phil says.

“I wasn’t pining over you,” Clint responds with a shake of his head. “It wasn’t...I’m not...I don’t think I knew you well enough for that.”

“Are you saying this didn’t have anything to do with me?” Phil asks and rubs the ring again.

“No,” Clint says, looking intently into Phil’s eyes. “That had everything to do with you.”

Phil takes a small step closer. “Then maybe I should apologize for not letting us get to know each other.”

“Not sure that would have made things better,” Clint says with a frown. “But I like that we’re getting to know each other now.”

“Is that what you propose we keep doing?” Phil asks. “Just keep getting to know each other better?”

“Well...” Clint replies with a slow smile. “Maybe with a few differences.”

Their first kiss is slow and sweet and near perfect. Phil can’t help thinking it feels like home.


	6. It's never all wine and roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I teach archery at the high school," Clint fires back. "I haven't shot at a moving target in years. I've never intended to go back."

Phil thinks he could spend a lifetime kissing Clint Barton, but the part of his brain still capable of logical thought reminds him that there are far better activities they could be engaging in and none of them are appropriate for his front porch. He feels the rough wood of the door at his back - not having been aware of when they'd moved - and grabs for the handle, only to have Clint stop the movement with his hand. 

"I can't," Clint says as he breaks away from the kiss. Phil can only look at Clint in confusion. 

"Don't look at me like that," Clint pleads and swoops in for another quick kiss. "I _want_ to - God knows I do - but Gus isn't comfortable closing up on his own and I promised I'd be in to help. If I go inside with you now, I won't want to leave until morning."

Phil feels flushed and out of breath, his brain slow to process Clint’s words. He looks dazedly at the archer and notes that Clint looks equally flustered, eyes conveying his regret at needing to leave. Phil darts his tongue out experimentally to lick at his lips, pleased when Clint groans and his hands tighten their hold on Phil’s hips.

“You’re not playing fair,” Clint complains.

“You came to a high school dance wearing a three-piece suit that makes you look good enough to eat with the sole purpose of reuniting Haley with her estranged boyfriend,” Phil points out. “I don’t think you have much room to accuse of me of not playing fair.”

Clint’s brow furrows. “That’s not why I -”

“I know,” Phil responds quickly, letting his hands rest on Clint’s forearms reassuringly. “But you understand that makes you more appealing, don’t you? I meant what I said at the dance. You’re a good man, Clint Barton. Even if you are leaving me frustrated on my doorstep.”

Clint’s eyes gleam wickedly for a second and a sudden flash of _there’s the Hawkeye I know_ goes through Phil’s mind. But then Clint’s face falls and he drops his head with a groan, muttering “I can’t believe I’m cockblocking myself,” before looking back up at Phil. “I also gave Sammy a few weeks off to visit family, so I’m stuck covering both her shifts and mine starting tomorrow.”

Phil frowns. Covering Sammy’s shifts means that Clint will barely have time to sleep, let alone spend time with Phil. With all of the holiday travelers in town, Clint is going to be run ragged by the end of the week. 

“How about lunch on Sunday?” Clint asks. Sunday, two days before Christmas, is the start of the bar’s three day holiday break. 

Disappointment is clear on Clint’s face when Phil shakes his head, so he smiles and squeezes Clint's arms again. “How about you _sleep_ on Sunday morning and we have dinner instead?”

Clint’s answering smile is full of relief. “Deal! Come over and let me cook you dinner.”

“You don’t have to -” Phil starts to protest, but stops when Clint gives his hips another squeeze.

“I _want_ to cook for you,” Clint says and Phil feels a near-overwhelming rush of affection at the look in his eyes. 

“I can stop by the bar tomorrow. Bring you lunch?” Phil offers and Clint’s smile brightens.

“I’d really like that.”

Clint gives Phil another slow and sweet kiss, spreading a warmth through Phil that he’s quickly associating Clint. The younger man steps backwards off the porch and to his car, waving as he drives away.

~~~

Phil drops in the next day, as promised, and several more times over the course of the week, primarily to ensure that Clint is actually eating - the role reversal not lost on either of them. 

He expects the anticipation for Sunday to be an annoyance, an itch under his skin that he can’t scratch, but he’s wrong. It feels, to Phil at least, like he’s walking along a sun-warmed path to a breathtaking vista - as if quiet meals in the back office and stolen kisses amongst the chaos are just what they need to lead them to Sunday. He thinks that Clint has probably been too busy to notice and is pleasantly surprised when he’s pulled into a lengthy kiss at Clint’s doorway.

“Hi,” says Clint softly when they finally break apart.

“Hi, yourself,” Phil responds and the anticipation that’s been smoldering suddenly blazes to life. 

“I overslept a little,” Clint confesses as he shuts the door and helps Phil take off his coat. “So the chili needs to simmer for at least another hour. I would have called, but I was hoping you didn’t mind coming early.”

Clint turns away, the tips of his ears pinking adorably, and Phil grabs his hand to stop him.

“Do you need to watch over it while it simmers?” Phil asks and Clint shakes his head. “Because you still haven’t shown me the rest of the house.”

Phil watches as Clint’s eyes darken with desire before he’s pulled in for a much hungrier kiss. Phil finally sees the master bedroom, but the rest of the house remains a mystery for a bit longer.

“Smells great,” Phil comments a little over an hour later, wrapping his arms around Clint from behind and resting his chin on a well-muscled shoulder.

Clint drops one of his hands to cover Phil’s and turns his head for a kiss.

“Cornbread’s only been in for fifteen minutes, so we have another fifteen to go,” Clint reports and then laughs when Phil’s stomach growls on cue. “I have chips and pretzels in the pantry.”

“Nah,” Phil says and moves away to snag one of the cucumbers that Clint has cut up for salads. “I can wait for the chili.”

Clint covers the chili pot and turns to Phil. “Before I forget, Macie wanted to invite you over for Christmas dinner. Jake was supposed to ask earlier, but he forgot.”

“Jake was pretty busy with the budget, so I can see why it slipped his mind,” Phil responds. 

“Yeah. He said you were a huge help, so he felt pretty bad for forgetting. Do you want to go over? I think Macie’s making a ham.”

“Of course,” Phil says easily, happy to have been invited. 

Clint ducks his head bashfully in a way that Phil would never have associated with the sniper who worked for SHIELD, but knows it’s common and hopelessly endearing for Clint. “I also bought a roast for tomorrow night...that is...if you wanted to stay.”

Phil really has no choice but to reel Clint in for a kiss and only the ringing of the oven timer prevents it from going further.

“Explain it to me,” Phil requests when they’ve eaten dinner and are cuddled together on the couch, half watching the television and the twinkling of Clint’s Christmas lights. 

“Hmmm?”

“You said you weren’t pining before I...before Loki,” Phil clarifies.

Clint’s arms tighten around him and Phil waits for the words to come. “You were...unattainable. Like a...I don’t know...a beautiful sunset that you can’t help falling a little in love with. You know you can’t contain it, can’t hold on to it, but you mourn it just the same when it’s gone.”

Phil turns, wanting to chase away the sadness lingering in Clint’s eyes. “You know that was never true? I was never out of your reach.”

Clint’s smile is wry and Phil knows the archer doesn’t believe him. Phil leans in for a kiss, hoping to convey that none of it matters now that they’re here and together.

~~~

The next few days are the happiest that Phil remembers experiencing. He’s never lived with anyone before and isn’t typically a tactile person, so it surprises him how easy it is to be in Clint’s space. The casual touches and lingering kisses feel so natural that it takes him close to an hour of being at the Donaldson’s before it occurs to him what’s wrong - Clint hasn’t touched him since they walked in the door. Phil has a moment of concern until he becomes conscious of several aborted movements by Clint. He realizes that Clint is unsure of what Phil is comfortable displaying in a more public setting, but Phil is at a loss for what to do next since he’s really not comfortable with suddenly draping himself all over the younger man. It's Haley who solves Phil’s dilemma by elbowing him in ribs and pointing at the mistletoe hanging above the door to the kitchen with a smirk. Clint’s surprised smile far outshines the hooting from Jake and Macie or Brandon’s fake gagging. 

Phil walks into the Belt the next day and decides to forgo the ambiguity of the night before by leaning across the bar for a quick kiss that Clint returns easily. None of the other customers bat an eye and Phil settles into a corner table with a book, happy when Clint continuously stops by to refill his cup or look over his shoulder at the book.

It’s mid-afternoon when an unfamiliar ringtone draws Phil’s eyes out of his book and he looks up to see Clint pulling his phone out of his pocket, face lighting up as he sees the number on the screen.

“Nat!” Clint cries happily into the phone. “Happy Christmas! I didn’t think I’d get to talk to you until the new year...No, no. I can talk. Just let me walk into the back. Haley loved the dress, she wanted me to...”

Phil watches Clint disappear into the back office and attempts to hold onto what’s left of his relaxed mood. There are a myriad of questions swirling through his head and it sits heavily between them over dinner later that night until Clint finally sets his fork down with a sigh. 

“You knew I wasn’t trying to hide,” he points out.

“I know,” Phil agrees. “It was just...unexpected. How often do you talk?”

“Every few weeks unless Nat’s on a mission. She was here for a visit a few months before you arrived,” Clint offers. “Nick stayed here to get some skiing in last winter. I last talked to him about a month and a half ago. I haven’t told either of them about you being here. That’s your announcement to make, not mine.”

Phil doesn’t know if he’s expected to formulate a response as Clint rises and begins clearing away their dishes. Phil stays silent, but follows Clint into the kitchen and wraps his arms around the younger man in apology as he puts the plates in the sink. 

“I’m sorry,” Phil says, still a little unsure of what exactly he’s feeling, but knows whatever it is isn’t being fair to Clint. “I just...”

“Weren’t ready to be reminded about your old life?” Clint says, unerringly on target, as always. 

Phil sighs against Clint’s back. “Yeah...maybe.”

Clint turns in Phil’s arms and gives him an understanding smile. “It’s okay, Phil. Really. You said you were giving yourself a full year to decide. You don’t suddenly have to make up your mind just because we’re -.”

“Using every horizontal surface in your house to its limits?” Phil finishes with a smirk. He knows he’s deflecting, but Phil isn’t ready to define exactly what they are and he’s feeling selfish enough to want the happiness of the past few days to return. 

“Well...there are also the horizontal surfaces in your house,” Clint responds with a smirk of his own and Phil tries not to notice the lingering shadows in the archer’s eyes.

They manage to ignore the elephant in the room until Friday night, when the televisions at the bar are suddenly bombarded by footage of another alien attack in Chicago. Phil finds his eyes glued to the screen, trying to discern the pattern of the attack and how well the Avengers are working together to contain it. He turns automatically to get Clint’s opinion and finds the archer looking at him and not the televisions. The look of sad resignation in Clint’s eyes makes Phil’s breath catch in his throat. 

Clint doesn’t say anything that night or the next day, but Phil can’t shake the feeling that Clint is somehow saying goodbye with every kiss and every touch. They take Haley and Brandon to the comic book store on Saturday and Phil spends most of the day ignoring Haley’s looks of concern. Even Brandon seems aware there’s something wrong and chatters unendingly throughout the trip about how amazing it was to see the Avengers in action again. Dinner at the Donaldson house that night is noticeably strained. Phil catches Haley trying to talk to Clint, but he only shakes his head and hugs her tight, burying his nose in her hair. It’s seeking comfort in a way that Phil has seen Clint do several times with Natasha.

Phil holds Clint just that much closer when they fall asleep that night, wishing he could stop the feeling of impending doom that has settled over them. What he receives instead, is a call from Nick Fury.

“I know I said I wouldn’t call,” Fury says without bothering with a greeting. “But we’ve got a bit of an issue with the Avengers.”

“Phil? Coffee’s ready!” Clint yells from just outside the living room and Phil knows it carries through the phone even before Fury starts swearing.

“God damn it! Phil, please tell me that wasn’t Barton’s voice I just heard.” Phil winces as Fury continues his rant. “Son of a bitch! What are the fucking chances? I knew I should have asked him why he was moving to Junction of all places.”

“Were you calling for a reason, Director Fury?” Phil prods, not ready to talk about his personal life or be asked questions he doesn’t have an answer to.

“We need you back, Coulson. We have reason to believe the attacks will continue and the Avengers aren’t working together like we’d hoped. I hate asking you this, especially now, but there’s nobody else I know that can handle them like you.”

“Have you addressed the issue of my non-death?” Phil asks, his answer a foregone conclusion at the director’s first statement. If he’s truly honest with himself, Phil knew the answer as soon as he saw the news footage. 

“It’ll be dealt with before you arrive,” Fury responds. “Is that a yes?”

“Phil?” Clint asks quietly from doorway.

“Yes, Director Fury,” Phil answers while looking directly into Clint’s eyes. “I can be back in New York as soon as you need me.”

Clint doesn’t speak, doesn’t flinch, only turns and leaves Phil sitting on the couch to work the details of his pickup.

“ _Fuck_ , Phil,” Fury says at the end of the conversation. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll see you on Tuesday,” Phil responds, takes a deep breath, and goes to find Clint.

“When are they picking you up?” Clint asks as soon as Phil steps into the kitchen.

Phil feels the loss of Clint like a physical blow - because the man standing in front of him, mask firmly in place, is not the man he’s spent the past week with.

“Clint,” Phil pleads, stepping forward and grabbing Clint’s hands in desperation. “This isn’t...I’m not...This is who I am.”

“I know that, Phil,” Clint says evenly. “I’d never ask you to be anyone other than who you are.”

“Then come back with me,” Phil asks. He doesn’t realize his mistake until Clint flinches and pulls his hands away. The blow from earlier is nothing compared to the punch in the gut Phil feels when Clint looks at him with hurt and betrayal in his eyes.

“No,” Clint says forcefully and opens his mouth as if to say more, but just shakes his head and makes his way around Phil. He stops at the doorway, back still turned toward Phil and says, “I thought you understood,” before walking completely out of the house. 

Phil doesn’t go in search of Clint - causing a potential scene at the bar is something neither of them wants. Phil packs a few things, calls Jake, and arranges for a substitute. Phil makes the usual excuses for his sudden departure and thanks Jake for the past few months. He knows that Jake is dying to ask about Clint, but steers the conversation in way so that he doesn’t come up. Phil then spends hours sitting on his couch staring at the front door before heading to bed, feeling more alone and bereft than when he’d woken up in the hospital to a staff that had no idea who he was.

It takes him until early afternoon the next day to lose his patience and show up at Clint’s doorstep. Clint looks as tired and forlorn as Phil feels. 

"Please talk to me," Phil requests and is grateful when Clint steps aside to let him in the house. Phil trails Clint into the kitchen and waits for the archer to turn and face him. 

"I've made a home in Junction," Clint finally says. 

"I understand that." Phil does understand. He knows about Clint's past. Phil understands that Junction is the first place that has really been a home to Clint. "I'm sorry if I made it seem like going back would be an easy choice." 

"Going back was never a choice," Clint says and the finality of his tone sends a shiver of dread down Phil's spine. 

"You've been keeping up with your bow skills," Phil argues. 

"I teach archery at the high school," Clint fires back. "I haven't shot at a moving target in years. I've never intended to go back."

Phil isn't sure he can imagine a SHIELD where Clint isn't watching his back, but he's willing to concede that to keep Clint in his life. 

"Okay,” Phil says slowly. “I think we can still make it work. We'll talk on the phone and I promise to be better about taking time off to visit."

"So I get to have a part of you when you can find the time for me?" Clint asks, making Phil wince in response. “And what if you don’t find the time? What then? We both know that SHIELD isn’t known for keeping to timelines.” 

Phil doesn’t have an answer and fear starts to blossom in the pit of his stomach.

"The horrible thing is, a few years ago, that would have been more than I could have hoped for,” Clint continues with a sad smile. “But now I think I finally understand what you and Nat and Nick were always trying to teach me - that I may deserve more. It’s not that I actually believe I’m more important than saving the world, but it would be nice for someone to _think_ I am."

Phil wants, in equal parts, to cheer and curse at Clint's new-found sense of self worth. 

“I love you,” Clint says softly. Phil has to close his eyes for a moment, wondering how three words can sound so beautiful and yet pierce him more painfully than Loki’s spear. “I think a part of me has always loved you and maybe always will.”

Clint takes a small step closer and Phil wishes he could say the words back, but they stick in his throat. He cares too much about Clint to voice them now because they would only be words - a last ditch effort to try and salvage the happiness Phil thought he’d found. Clint cups his jaw and there’s a part of Phil that screams at him to turn away, to leave the memory of all the kisses that came before untainted. But he’s a weak man and Phil can’t resist a last touch of Clint’s lips on his own. 

“Goodbye Phil,” Clint whispers, breath ghosting across Phil’s lips, before he slips away. 

Phil stands in the middle of Clint’s kitchen until the late afternoon shadows lengthen into night and then he walks out into the dark, leaving the house and Clint behind.


	7. Losing Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Months pass and Phil worries that the chasm between Junction and New York is growing too wide to breach.

Coming back from the dead proves anticlimactic. Phil doesn’t know how Fury explains it to everyone, but by the time he walks into SHIELD HQ on that Tuesday, the first day of the new year, all the agents are acting like he’s been on nothing but an extended vacation. The only things that signal anything more is out of the ordinary are the empty shelves in his office and the stack of boxes by the couch. Phil ignores it all to start reading the small stack of files on his desk.

An uncertain silence descends when Phil walks into Avengers Tower that night and a weird sort of staring contest ensues. Phil assumes that the Avengers have received the same speech from Fury, but this rag-tag group of heroes, aside from Natasha, are not SHIELD agents. It’s Stark who finally breaks the stalemate, walking over to pull Phil into a manly handshake-turned-one-armed-hug. The tension dissipates and Phil gracefully accepts greetings from the remaining Avengers - regular handshakes from Steve and Bruce, a hefty pat on the back from Thor, and a subdued nod from Natasha. Phil moves into the tower with the Avengers, gets back to work, and everything goes back to normal. 

Except that Phil wakes every morning with the phantom feeling of strong arms holding him close and chasing the dream of lips against the back of neck. He lays awake at night with his head against a soft pillow, wishing for a solid shoulder instead. He aches for the echo of familiar laughter and hears nothing but silence. It’s driving him mad, but he still clings to every fading memory of his last week in Junction. Phil thinks he can easily face a dozen Lokis now, because there is nothing left of his heart to take.

“How are you holding up?” Natasha asks, walking into Phil’s office about a month after he comes back to New York.

The agent has been away for the past few weeks on an independent op and Phil looks up in time to see her exaggerated grimace as she takes a seat. 

“Never mind,” Natasha says. “You don’t need to answer. You look like shit.”

“Natasha...”

“What?” Natasha challenges. “Are you going to argue the fact that you look like death warmed over?”

“No,” Phil sighs and rubs his hand over his face, thankful that Natasha had at least closed the door. He’s been dreading this conversation since he arrived. “I’m not getting much sleep.”

Natasha only hums in response and they stare at each other across Phil’s desk. Phil breaks first, dropping his eyes to the file he’d been attempting to read before she walked in.

“I miss him,” Phil confesses. 

“He misses you too,” Natasha replies. It doesn’t make Phil feel any better.

“When did he tell you?” 

“He didn’t need to tell me,” Natasha says. “I knew as soon as I heard his voice. There’s nothing that makes Clint sound that happy, except you.”

Phil’s brow furrows. “Even before...?”

“Even before you made Clint and the rest of us think you were dead? Yes.”

“Do you know what happened? Why he left?” Phil asks, looking at Natasha with pleading eyes, but not really expecting her to betray Clint’s confidence.

“Yes,” she answers simply. “And you already know it’s not my story to tell.” 

“I asked him to come back,” Phil says and Natasha nods. “I wish I knew why he won’t come back.”

“Why?” she asks.

“He’s an Avenger,” Phil responds, not bothering to hide the bitterness in his voice. “His skills, no matter how rusty, are beyond anything anyone else can even hope to match. He’s wasting a _gift_ that the world is in dire need of right now.”

“I don’t disagree with what you just said,” Natasha states calmly. “But that’s not the question I was asking.”

“I’m tired, Natasha,” Phil says with another sigh. “I neither have the time or the patience to deal with your interrogation tactics right now.”

“Fine, you want blunt?” Natasha asks and Phil gives a short nod. “I wasn’t asking why you think he _should_ come back, but why you _wanted_ him to come back. Was it because you thought it was the right thing for him? Or because you wanted to avoid needing to make a choice?” 

“I...I don’t know,” Phil responds, disappointed in himself.

Natasha stands and looks down at him. “Get some sleep, Coulson. You’re not going to do the world or anyone else any good the way you are now.” Natasha moves away, but pauses once more at the door. “Isn’t it funny that we sometimes forget _why_ we're trying to save the world?”

Phil looks around at the still empty shelves, the boxes left untouched on the floor, and leaves. There are similar, unpacked boxes waiting in his room at the tower - what little he brought back with him from Junction. These, he kneels in front of and cuts them open, grimacing when he remembers that one box includes a few unwashed clothes from before he left. Phil pulls out a pair of jeans and looks down when a light thud signals something falling out of the pocket. He bends down with shaking fingers to pick up the simple gold band, imagining that it still holds the residual warmth of the man who’d once worn it. Phil doesn’t know what it means - that Clint slipped it into his pocket during their final kiss - but he clutches it tightly in his hand, lays on his bed fully clothed, and sleeps more fully than he has in weeks. 

~~~

Nothing changes. Phil stays in New York and Clint remains in Junction. The Avengers and SHIELD continue to fight off alien attacks. Phil still feels like everything inside him is brittle and broken, but he doesn’t know how to mend the rift he’s created. It feels like he’s waiting for something and only wishes he knew what it was. Months pass and Phil worries that the chasm between Junction and New York is growing too wide to breach. 

It’s now early June and Phil finds himself sitting alone in the mobile command vehicle after a particularly hard-fought battle, clutching his phone in his hand and wanting nothing more than to call Clint. To hear his voice and tell him that they’d done good today - no casualties and only minor injuries even though the swarms of flying creatures had seemed unending. He wants to listen to Clint’s warm voice reassure Phil that he’d done the best he could. 

The back door of the vehicle is open to where Sitwell and several other SHIELD agents are taking a much deserved break and their voices filter in to where Phil sits.

“You know who we could have used today?” Johnson asks. 

“Barton,” several voices chime in and Phil looks over at the door in surprise.

“Remember the time with the flying robots over Canada?” Jensen asks.

“I’ve never seen anyone move that fast.”

“Or the time in Jakarta with those rabid giant pigeons?”

“Doves,” corrects Sitwell. “They were doves.”

“Whatever. Same difference.”

“The genetic engineered armadillos in Salem,” Mendez adds to the list. “Or the bomber in Amsterdam.”

“He put an arrow through my favorite jacket in Amsterdam,” Garrett complains.

“Barton still hit the trigger device on the guy holding the bomb and kept us all from going up in smoke,” Sitwell defends. “And he probably would have seen exactly where these damn things were coming from today.” It had taken way too long for SHIELD and JARVIS to pinpoint the source of the alien attack.

“Barton was an asshole,” says a voice Phil can’t place. “But he was a hell of a marksman.”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Mendez says forcefully. “ _Agent_ Barton once carried my injured ass eight miles to an extraction point, so he deserves some fucking respect from idiots like you.”

“Eight miles?” someone else asks.

“Eight miles over rough terrain,” Mendez huffs. “Barton tried to convince me that I walked myself out. I may not remember much from that op, but I sure as hell know I didn’t walk out of anywhere with two broken legs, a concussion, and a knife wound.”

“Wait,” says Jensen. “Are you talking about Bogata? I was on the extraction team. Wasn’t Barton injured too?”

“What?!”

“Yeah! Bullet to the thigh, I think,” Jensen continues. “Must have hurt like a bitch because it was the first time he ever accepted pain meds without an argument. Wilson told me he got written up for that stunt.”

“What the fuck for?” Mendez asks. “They tried to give me a commendation for doing nothing but be unconscious.”

“Barton had the terrorist cell’s information in his hands,” Sitwell says quietly. “His orders were to get to the extraction point as fast as he could.”

“They would have just left him there?”

“We’re SHIELD, not the Rangers,” Sitwell responds. “Good of the many and all that.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck.”

“He got written up for Andalucia too,” says Johnson. 

“What was Andalucia?”

“The Christmas from hell,” Garrett answers. “Stuck inside a safehouse with fifteen of your closest friends.”

“But the _paella_ ,” Sitwell says dreamily. “Barton made an awesome paella for Christmas dinner. I haven’t tasted anything nearly as good and I honeymooned in Spain.”

“I still have one of those stupid little toys he left in all our socks,” another voice pipes up.

“That was Barton?”

“Of course it was Barton. Who else do you think would sneak out to buy us Christmas presents?” Garrett asks. “It’s why he got written up for insubordination. Disobeyed orders and left the safehouse to buy us food and the toys.” 

“I have mine in my desk,” Sitwell confides.

“Carter really wrote him up for that?” Jensen asks. “The guy ate more paella than the rest of us.”

“It was still disobeying a direct order,” Sitwell points out, but there’s no conviction in his voice.

The agents fall quiet until Mendez speaks up again. “I don’t think I ever thanked him for saving my life.”

“I don’t think anyone ever thanked him for covering us all those years,” Garrett says. “We never had to worry about bullets in our backs with Barton watching them.”

The confessions that follow leave Phil feeling like he can’t breathe. 

“I pretty much called him a traitor.”

“I accused him of being a murderer.”

“I said killing was the only thing he knew how to do.”

“I asked him if he enjoyed finally turning that bow on the rest of us.”

“I told him he was bound to turn on us eventually and that SHIELD was safer without him.”

“I guess we’re the assholes,” Garrett says at the end and nobody argues with his assessment.

Phil was so very, very wrong. Clint never isolated himself from the other agents. It didn’t matter that they shunned him or considered him an outcast - Clint had still _tried_. He'd trusted SHIELD or Clint never would have brought Natasha in otherwise. He’d attempted to make a home within SHIELD and they cast him out, thrown him away like he’d never mattered. Clint had been reeling from Loki’s mindfuck and mourning Phil’s death, only to have the other SHIELD agents chase him away. 

Clint’s entire life has been filled with people he cared about turning their backs on him. Phil wants to be angry, wants to avenge all the wrongs ever inflicted on Clint, but he can’t be. He’s afraid he’s no better than the rest. 

Phil is still feeling dazed over what he’s discovered when he picks Natasha up from Medical and drives her back to Avengers Tower. They find the others, all but Bruce still in their field gear, standing around the common living room and watching news footage on the extra large television.

“It’s good to remember you don’t need to fight aliens to be a hero,” Steve is saying as Phil and Natasha walk in.

“What are you watching?” Natasha asks because the footage isn’t of swarms of flying aliens. Instead, they see fire and smoke and the charred remains of houses.

“There was a wildfire in Colorado,” Bruce explains. “This town’s fire department is all volunteer and they still managed to hold their own.”

Phil quickly recognizes the shape of once-familiar buildings, but still lets out a small gasp when the name of the town flashes on the television.

“Oh my God,” Natasha whispers fearfully beside him.

“Should we not provide assistance to these courageous townsfolk?” 

“JARVIS. Freeze video and zoom in to section F37,” Phil orders over Thor’s question.

Clint’s face fills the screen and Phil is running out of the room before he hears Stark exclaim, “Holy shit! That’s Hawkeye!” 

Phil hopes that Natasha will prevent the others from showing up in Junction en masse, but he can’t spare the time to worry about that now. He commandeers a Quinjet and is glad, for once, that his reputation keeps anyone from questioning the unsanctioned trip. All Phil can see, all he can think of, is the despair in Clint’s eyes and the fresh bandage peeking out the neck of his shirt. Phil refuses to think that he could have lost Clint without the archer knowing that Phil is in love with him.

Adrenaline gets Phil through the flight and drive to Junction. He heads for the Donaldson house, unsure of where else to go. Phil jumps out of the SHIELD-emblazoned SUV and freezes as the adrenaline fades and reality hits. There are a half dozen tables set out on the lawn, displaced citizens of Junction sitting quietly with their faces still slack with shock. Very few faces turn to look at the new arrival.

It’s Haley who spots Phil and separates herself from the others to greet him. She wipes her hand on the leg of her jeans and holds it out to Phil.

“I’m told it’s polite to introduce yourself to people you don’t know,” Haley says with a smile. “I’m Haley Donaldson.”

Phil feels the corner of his mouth rise as he takes her hand. “Phil Coulson, Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division,” he replies automatically. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Agent Coulson.”

Macie quietly appears at her daughter’s side. “It’s nice to see you again, Phil," she says and gives Phil a searching look. He tries not to fidget under Macie's scrutiny and relaxes when she gives him a welcoming smile. "I can drive you downtown so they don’t try and hold you back. Jake and Clint are with the others still looking for hotspots.”

Phil tenses again, suddenly afraid, and feels slender hands grab his arms gently.

“Don’t be dense. Clint loves you,” Haley says with quiet confidence. She slips her arms under Phil’s and pulls him in for a gentle hug. His arms wrap automatically around the teenager and he can’t help dropping his nose into her hair. “Everyone deserves another chance,” she whispers.

Phil can only pray he hasn’t already used up all of his chances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The SHIELD agent names and mission locations are completely random. I didn't not have time to do much research in my flurry of writing last night and beg for your eternal forgiveness for any glaring issues.


	8. What you take with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil laughs, keeps his arms locked around the archer, and buries his nose in the crook of Clint’s neck. Phil knows his face will end up smeared with ash and he rubs a little harder against Clint’s skin. “I don’t care about the damn suit.”
> 
> “Why Agent Coulson,” Clint teases, “what would your tailor say?”
> 
> “That I have the right priorities,” Phil responds and trails his lips up to capture Clint’s.

The drive downtown is surreal. The smell of smoke lingers, the heart of the fire is still blazing many miles away, and ash hovers in the air like a fog surrounding Junction. They’ve managed to save most of downtown with only the last block sustaining major damage. Phil’s chest clenches painfully when he sees that Orion’s Belt looks to be a total loss.

One of the other volunteer firemen sees Macie and waves at them to continue on past downtown, to the heart of the devastation. 

“They must be at the house,” Macie whispers.

Phil knows then that Clint has lost everything. The enormity of his loss hits Phil like a punch in the gut and Macie reaches over to pat his hand comfortingly. “It’ll be okay,” she says and Phil wants to ask how she can sound so sure.

They park behind a group of other vehicles just outside what was once a beautiful neighborhood. Macie shuts off the engine but doesn’t move to leave the car. 

“Watching Jake and Clint walk off with all the other volunteers to fight the fire was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do,” she says softly, not looking at Phil. “I knew that all of them were well trained and that they’d all do their absolute best to keep each other safe, but it was still hard.” Macie turns toward Phil with eyes holding more understanding than he thinks he deserves. “It’s hard trusting your family in someone else’s hands.”

Phil looks down at his own hands, sitting loosely in his lap, and tries to find the right words to defend himself. He’s surprised when Macie reaches over once again, this time giving his hand a small squeeze. Phil looks back up at her, unsure.

“What I’m trying to say, Phil,” Macie says with a small smile, “is that I trust you.”

“How can you?” Phil asks with a shake of his head. “After I...after everything?”

“Because you’re _here_ ,” she responds with another squeeze to his hand. “And I’m certain that the man we got to know last year - who let me boss him into dinners, helped Jake hang the Christmas lights, listened to Brandon ramble about comic books, didn’t treat Haley with kid gloves, and fell in love with Clint - is the real Phil. Am I wrong?”

“No.” 

“Good,” Macie says with a nod and finally turns to exit the car. 

They find Jake part way down the line of cars, leaning tiredly against the side of his truck. Jake smiles when he sees Macie before he spots Phil and the smile fades into a glower. The anger on the principal’s normally amiable face is a surprise, but Phil meets the brunt of the glare unflinchingly. 

“Jacob,” Macie reprimands quietly and places her hand on Phil’s shoulder in support.

Jake’s gaze moves to his wife and years of marriage allow for them to have a lengthy argument in the span of a few silent seconds. Jake eventually clenches his jaw and nods once in acquiescence. Macie moves to stand next to her husband and takes his hand, smiling up at him in thanks. Jake rolls his eyes fondly at Macie before turning back to Phil.

“Clint’s family,” Jake says simply, but forcefully. It serves as both a small apology for his reaction and a warning to Phil about hurting Clint again. 

“Clint’s my world,” Phil responds, the truth of his words settles warmly in his chest and it lifts the weight of uncertainty off his shoulders.

Jake startles at Phil’s open admission, eyes going wide before they fill with approval. “We’ll wait here, but we should all try and head back before dark.”

Phil finds Clint crouched in the remains of what used to be his kitchen. Any sounds Phil makes during his approach are drowned out by the sounds of heavy machinery moving nearby, but he only makes it part way up the driveway before Clint is aware of his presence. Phil watches Clint’s shoulders tense before he stands and turns. The archer stiffens, clearly not expecting to see Phil walking steadily toward him. He blinks several times to clear his vision and then goes perfectly still as Phil closes all but the last few feet of distance between them and stops.

Clint is sweaty and covered in soot, the once-fresh bandage visible from underneath the collar of his shirt already grey with ash. He has the top half of his protective jumpsuit - a donation from the Stark Foundation to every fire department in the US and abroad - unzipped and hanging down around his hips, his shirt and bare arms already marred by streaks of charcoal black. Clint is, undoubtedly, the most beautiful thing Phil has ever seen.

“Clint,” Phil says with all the longing he feels embedded into the single syllable. 

The fingers on Clint’s left hand twitches and his entire body lists toward Phil as if drawn by an invisible thread. Phil can’t stand the distance any longer and stumbles forward to pull Clint into his arms. He feels a shudder run through the archer before Clint’s arms wrap around him and hold tight. Relief washes over Phil so strongly that he lowers them gently to the ground, fearing his knees could buckle and cause a much less graceful descent. 

“You’re here,” Clint whispers in awe.

Phil tightens his hold on Clint and voices the mantra running through his head. “I’m here. I love you. I’m sorry. I’m home. I’m home. I’m home.”

Clint shifts so he can look at Phil, eyes still disbelieving as they rove over Phil’s face. He reaches up to touch Phil’s cheek and leaves a streak of soot behind. It shocks Clint out of his daze and he startles, trying to pull himself out of Phil’s arms. 

“Your suit!” Clint exclaims as if just realizing that he’s covered in grime and dirt and sitting on the charred remains on his house.

Phil laughs, keeps his arms locked around the archer, and buries his nose in the crook of Clint’s neck. Phil knows his face will end up smeared with ash and he rubs a little harder against Clint’s skin. “I don’t care about the damn suit.”

“Why Agent Coulson,” Clint teases, “what would your tailor say?”

“That I have the right priorities,” Phil responds and trails his lips up to capture Clint’s. 

It’s been a long six months and they lose themselves in the kiss, reveling in a feeling once thought lost. They pull apart just as purposely loud footsteps come up the driveway. 

“They’re clearing the area,” Jake announces and throws his keys over to Clint. “We’ll see you at the house.”

They stand and Phil wraps his arm around Clint’s waist, who sighs as he takes a last look around.

“We can rebuild it,” Phil says softly and smiles when Clint turns to him in surprise. “We should probably talk more - back the house - but I’d like to stay, if you’ll have me.”

Clint nods mutely and Phil doesn’t need words to understand the quiet joy radiating from the younger man. As the afternoon shadows slowly lengthen into night, they walk away from the house together and leave the darkness behind.

~~~

The Donaldson house is filled to over-capacity, emanating a sense of welcome despite the barely controlled chaos. Phil is greeted warmly by several townsfolk and no one questions his departure or return. He helps Macie organize where the, thankfully small, number of now-homeless families will be staying until they rebuild. It does not surprise Phil that every displaced family is taken into another home - Junction is a town that takes care of its own.

Phil is eventually herded upstairs for a shower and a good night’s sleep. He doesn’t put up a fight as he’s handed a spare set of clothes and pushed toward one of the upstairs guest rooms. By the time he walks out of the adjoining bathroom, Clint is sitting on the bed waiting for him. Phil can’t keep his pulse from jumping at how the borrowed shirt pulls tight across Clint’s shoulders. The archer smirks knowingly and Phil sits next to him on the bed, bumping their shoulders together.

“I’m guessing now would not be a good opportunity for you to welcome me home properly?” Phil asks with a smirk of his own, knowing they are both much too tired to do much of anything tonight.

“Mmmm...I can probably think of something,” Clint murmurs and leans forward for a kiss that’s sweet, but brief. “Are you sure? About staying?”

“Yes,” Phil replies without hesitation. “I love you. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to figure it out, but nothing I accomplish means a thing unless you’re there to share it with. What I do doesn’t matter as long as I’m with you.”

“You mean that,” Clint says, eyes shining with love and awe.

Phil pulls him close, grateful beyond words that he hasn’t managed to lose this man. “I do,” he whispers into Clint’s hair. 

“I love you Phil,” Clint whispers back before letting out a jaw-cracking yawn. “M’sorry.”

Phil chuckles and maneuvers them into the bed. They settle with Clint’s arms wrapped tightly around Phil from behind, the archer’s breath warm on neck as he lets out another yawn.

“You’ve done good,” Clint mumbles sleepily. “I’ve been watching. They’re fighting much better as a team since you’ve been back.”

Clint’s praise, so long awaited, wraps comfortingly around Phil and he doesn’t mention that it still feels like something’s missing. That Phil still catches himself and Natasha - and once Steve - looking up at buildings as if expecting arrows to rain down from a perch.

“Sleep, Clint,” Phil says instead, letting Clint’s steady breaths pull him into slumber. 

Phil wakes up alone in the bed, but Clint’s distinct scent lingers on the pillow and he can hear the familiar murmur of voices just outside the door. He opens his eyes and sees Clint outside the partially open door, sitting with Haley at the top of the stairs. 

“He says he wants to stay,” he hears Clint tell Haley.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Haley asks. 

“Yeah, but...”

“But what?” Haley prods when Clint doesn’t immediately say more. 

“It just doesn’t feel _right_ ,” Clint responds and Phil’s heart stops until the archer continues. “I love him and I want him to stay, but I don’t know if staying in Junction is right for him. He...I’m not sure if I can explain it, but Phil’s amazing at what he does. He leads in a way that you can’t help follow, but does it so quietly that you almost don’t notice.” 

Clint’s voice trails off and his next words take Phil a little by surprise. “Phil was born to be a hero, Haley. He’s braver than anyone else I’ve ever met - and I’ve met Captain America. Phil’s meant to be saving the world and I’m not sure it’s right for me to take that away from him.”

“Why does it have to be a choice?” Haley asks. 

“Because Junction’s my home now, Haley. You’re my family. The only one of either I’ve ever really had,” Clint replies and Haley rests her head on his shoulder. 

“I never would have made it through the past few years without you here,” Haley says as Clint wraps an arm around her. “You know that, right? None of us would have.”

“You’re stronger than you think,” Clint responds. 

“I know that now, thanks to you. And I’m better. I’ll be a senior this year and then maybe I’ll go away to college if I can convince Dad to let me out of his sight,” Haley says softly and Phil knows it’s a gift that Haley can speak of a future at all. “And after that...who knows? Maybe I’ll move back and maybe I won’t. But Junction won’t stop being home. Mom and Dad and Brandon and you won’t stop being family.”

“Haley...”

“Did you know that mom’s still trying to figure out a way to officially adopt you?” Haley asks, pulling back to look up at Clint. “This is how families work. You’re stuck with us now. No matter how old you get or how far away you go, we’ll always be here for you. You’ll be expected to come home for holidays and other occasions. Mom will make you feel guilty for not visiting more and then constantly feed you when you do. Dad will probably call you all the time just to ask what color shirt he should wear today and Brandon will need all the help he can get when he hits high school. And me...”

“And you?” Clint asks, voice thick with emotion.

“I’ll always need you...for everything...just not necessarily within hugging distance.”

Phil watches Clint pull Haley into his arms and drop his nose into her hair. “I love you kiddo.”

“Plus it’ll be kinda cool,” Haley says with a smile in her voice, “to maybe someday tell my kids that their Uncle Clint was Hawkeye, the Avenger. Just maybe leave out the part about the circus costume.”

“Laugh it up kiddo, I have pictures of you in your headgear first thing in the morning,” Clint warns before he looks over and meets Phil’s eyes. “And you can tell them that their Uncle Phil is pretty badass too.”

Phil gets up then, knowing he’s been caught eavesdropping. He steps out of the guestroom and Haley stands, cocking her head consideringly.

“I can probably do a decent job at a shovel talk,” she say with a quick finger tap to Phil’s chest.

Phil makes an exaggerated flinch back before grinning. “I’m sure you can and I’m sure I’ll get it from nearly everyone here, but it’s not necessary.”

“Good,” Haley says seriously and grins back before bouncing down the stairs. “Mom’s making breakfast.”

Phil takes her seat next to Clint. “How much does Haley know?” he asks.

“Enough,” says Clint with a shrug. “Haley also knows I won’t lie to her, so she’s been good about not asking extra questions. I finally told Macie and Jake that we worked together before Junction, but you’ve been on a lot more news footage than I expected. I’m pretty sure they’ve made the connection to SHIELD by now.” 

“I know what you went through with Loki and after was awful,” Phil says, “but I’m glad you found them, found Junction.”

“Me too,” Clint responds, not asking Phil just how much knows. “I didn’t know where else to go and I remembered you saying that this was where your dad chose to start over after you mom died. It seemed like the right place to try.”

“I’d forgotten I told you that, but I’m happy you remembered - even happier that I found you here,” Phil says and pulls Clint in for a kiss.

“Mmmm. Morning breath,” Clint mumbles against his lips.

“I ruined a perfectly good suit for you yesterday,” Phil reminds him. 

Clint smiles, eyes shining with laughter. “That didn’t take long. Thought you’d hold onto that one for a while.”

“I’m sure I’ll have plenty more to hold over you,” Phil replies. “Especially if you’re going to be hanging around with Stark."

Clint’s smile widens into a grin, but Phil sobers. “Are you sure? About going back?”

“No,” Clint responds honestly. “But I’m willing to try. I’ve been practicing more with my bow and I’d forgotten - tried hard to forget - how good it felt to have that connection.”

“I think the Avengers will be good for you,” Phil says. 

“I’d like to help with the rebuild,” Clint continues. “I understand if you can’t stay -”

Phil shakes his head. “I _want_ to stay.”

Clint leans forward for another kiss, regardless of his complaint about morning breath, and Phil can feel his smirk before he sees it. “I’m not really hungry for breakfast. How about you?”

Before Phil can respond, there’s a loud bang from downstairs as Brandon rushes into the house and the door slams against the wall.

“Mom! Dad! You’re not gonna fucking believe this!” Brandon yells.

“Brandon! Language!” Macie scolds.

“Sorry,” Brandon responds automatically. “But I think Tony Stark just pulled into our driveway.”

Clint raises an eyebrow at Phil as they listen to the household trail out of the house. Phil shrugs as he hears Haley scream Natasha’s name happily. 

“I didn’t exactly say they _couldn't_ follow me,” Phil says as they stand.

Clint starts to take a step down the stairs, but Phil stops him with a hand on his arm and then slides it down to link their fingers together.

“Whatever we find outside, whatever happens after,” Phil says. “I’m here for as long as you’ll have me. Whatever you decide, I won’t leave you.”

Clint smiles and shakes his head. “Not just what _I_ decide, Phil. What _we_ decide together.” 

“Together?” Phil asks.

“Together.” Clint affirms. 

They walk out into the morning sun hand-in-hand with Junction, the Avengers, and their future shining brightly in front of them.


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was that small admission, once dislodged, that rolled and brought with it a cascade of memories that pointed to one conclusion: that the feelings Phil had found for Clint in Junction were maybe not so new after all.
> 
> Phil shared his discovery with Clint that night, only to have the archer laugh and tumble them onto the bed. “Oh _Phil_ ,” Clint said as he trailed kisses down Phil’s neck. “You’re really just figuring that out _now_?”

“Phil, what is all this?”

“Hmmm?” Phil looks up from the intelligence report he’d been reading to find Clint standing just inside their home office.

It’s been three months since the fire and Junction has been rebuilt. Both the bar and Clint’s house are being watched by the Donaldsons, along with a newly installed security system courtesy of Stark. Sammy is now part owner of Orion’s Belt and will be responsible for running the bar in Clint’s absence. The house, which now belongs to both Phil and Clint, will be rented to short-term visitors while still providing them with a secure place to stay on extended visits. 

The two of them have been back in New York for about a week and had moved into their newly renovated floor at Avengers Tower the day before - Stark had needed a few extra days to finish up after getting the last of Clint and Phil’s input. 

Phil glances over to where Clint is pointing and sees the boxes he’d had sent over from his office at SHIELD HQ. “Personal effects from before,” Phil explains, neither of them needing or wanting him to elaborate. “Got tired of tripping over them to get to my desk.”

“You didn’t unpack them when you got back?” Clint asks with a concerned frown.

“I didn’t see the point,” Phil responds and looks up at Clint with a shrug. “I had more important things on my mind.”

It gets the desired effect that Phil is looking for - Clint walking over, taking the file out his hand, and kissing him senseless. Phil is just letting his hands wander and deciding to put off the reports until tomorrow when Clint pulls away with a final peck to his lips.

“You’re meeting with Fury first thing in the morning and I know you wanted to get through these reports first,” Clint reminds him.

“I’m not sure I’m happy with this new responsible streak you seem to have found,” Phil complains, tightening his hold on Clint’s hips to keep the archer on his lap.

“I’ll have to remind you of that the first time I’m late with a report,” Clint laughs, but doesn’t attempt to extricate himself. “Besides,” he adds with a smile that never fails to make Phil’s blood run hot, “I’d prefer you not be distracted when I finally get you into bed.”

Phil can’t resist stealing another kiss before letting Clint stand. “Stay?” he requests, still greedy for Clint’s company after all that time spent apart. 

Clint nods, his eyes and smile going soft. “You know,” Clint says thoughtfully as he moves away, “I’d joke about blackmailing you over being clingy, but I don’t think anyone would believe me.”

“About as much as they’d believe you talking me into reading reports over sex,” Phil responds with a smirk. 

“Talking you into reading reports for _better_ sex,” Clint corrects with an exaggerated leer. “Think of it as an award for good behavior.”

They work together in comfortable silence for a while, with Phil reading and Clint unpacking boxes. There’s a momentary pause for more kissing, Clint’s right hand fisted in Phil’s shirt and his left holding a stack of old birthday and Christmas cards - every card Clint had ever given Phil, saved and stashed away in a small waterproof box that had been at the bottom of his desk. It’s yet another clue that maybe Phil’s feelings regarding Clint, even prior to Junction, were not always entirely professional. 

The first clue had come courtesy of Tony Stark, who arrived in Junction with none of his usual fanfare. As Phil had always suspected, Tony and Clint were kindred spirits - abandoned, raised to fend for themselves, and eventually dedicating their lives to help others. Clint’s hidden genius, agile mind, and quick wit were more than a match for Tony’s snark and sudden bursts of brilliance. Their bond of friendship was instant and heartfelt, earning an envious look from Steve and one of horror from Natasha. By the second day of the Avengers’ week-long stay in Junction, Tony and Clint had several new arrow designs in the works and had managed to cause a minor explosion in the remains of Orion’s Belt. 

“You’re not concerned about this?” Natasha had asked as they watched the two men laugh at the minor damage they had caused. 

Clint looked over at Phil, clearly proud of their accomplishment, and he could only shake his head fondly in response. “I’ll need to get more property damage forms,” Phil said with a sigh.

“I meant the friendship,” Natasha clarified. “You’d always kept them apart before.”

“I’m not concerned,” Phil answered honestly, confident of his place in Clint’s heart. It did make Phil realize that it wasn’t concern, but fear which had driven him to ensure Clint and Tony hadn’t met prior to the Chitauri - fear that Stark could lure Clint away from SHIELD. It was that small admission, once dislodged, that rolled and brought with it a cascade of memories that pointed to one conclusion: that the feelings Phil had found for Clint in Junction were maybe not so new after all.

Phil shared his discovery with Clint that night, only to have the archer laugh and tumble them onto the bed. “Oh _Phil_ ,” Clint said as he trailed kisses down Phil’s neck. “You’re really just figuring that out _now_?”

Phil smiles at the memory and looks over at Clint, who is humming to himself as he places some of Phil’s books on a shelf.

“I’d complain about Tony giving us too many bookshelves,” Clint comments absently, “but Steve told me about this great vintage bookshop he found in SoHo.”

The Avengers had fit remarkably well in Junction. They worked side-by-side with the residents, clearing debris to make way for the rebuild. The press had stayed away, even after Stark Foundation crews arrived to start construction, and Phil suspected they owed Pepper Potts a very large favor. The Avengers understood that Junction was a safe haven and wanted to help keep it that way.

Hawkeye’s inclusion to the Avengers was accepted without question. The team rallied around Clint with the same exuberance they applied to most everything they did. There was no greater evidence of this than when a fleet of SHIELD trucks had arrived in Junction. Phil wasn’t sure how much Natasha had shared with the team, but it was enough for the Avengers to form a protective circle around Clint as several dozen agents emerged from the vehicles. Clint had looked at Phil with happy surprise as a tense standoff ensued between the glaring Avengers and the unsure SHIELD agents.

Jasper raised a questioning eyebrow at Phil, who gave a negative shake of his head - this was not his rift to bridge. As always, it was Clint’s unending capacity for forgiveness that broke the tension. The archer gave each of his new teammates a reassuring pat on the shoulder before pushing past them to greet the newly arrived agents. Phil watched as Clint shook hands with all the agents, thanking them for volunteering. Spoken and unspoken apologies were accepted with grace and, by the time Fury arrived a few hours later, everyone was working together amicably. Only Phil remained wary. While he loved Clint’s open heart, Phil knew it would be his responsibility to ensure Clint didn’t suffer again at the hands of fair weather friends. 

“You’re not actually going back to SHIELD?” Tony had asked later that night, clearly as wary and protective as Phil. “I mean, I know everyone’s kissed and made up, but I’m not sure it necessarily fixes everything.”

“I’m not sure I have a choice,” Clint responded. 

“Sure you do. You can come work for me,” Tony said confidently before amending his comment at the skeptical faces that stared back at him. “Okay. You can come work _with_ me - as an independent consultant.”

“He’s been trying to talk me into it for months,” Bruce added.

“It’s annoying that you don’t have official access into SHIELD,” Tony pointed out. Phil chose to ignore what this probably meant about Bruce’s unofficial access.

“How exactly do you propose this consultancy would work?” Phil asked to steer the conversation back on track. It was an idea that had been percolating in the back of his head since Clint had agreed to return to New York.

Tony narrowed his eyes at Phil. “You say that like you don’t already have everything planned in that scary little head of yours, Agent. I’m guessing you’ve already discussed the paperwork with Pep.”

Phil only smiled and thus the Avengers Initiative, PLLC was born with Phil specified as their liaison to SHIELD. The final round of paperwork was now in the final stages of approval.

“You know, looking at the paper would help with the reading,” Clint points out and startles Phil back to the present. 

Phil flushes in embarrassment when he realizes how far his mind has wandered. Clint has finished unpacking the boxes and is sitting on the edge of the desk with a knowing smile on his face.

“Daydreaming, Agent Coulson?” Clint teases.

“Thinking about Junction,” Phil replies. 

Clint moves toward Phil, but his plans are aborted when a folder falls off the desk and onto the floor. Clint crouches down to retrieve the papers that have spilled out and looks up at Phil when he sees what they are - brochures for NYU, Columbia, Barnard, Princeton, and several others. 

“College brochures?” Clint asks.

“I was going to send them to Haley,” Phil admits.

Clint laughs and looks down at the brochures. “Jake’s going to kill you for giving her ideas.”

“I figured having her near us would be better than anywhere else,” Phil points out. “She just started her senior year and I thought we could tour the colleges when they’re up for the wedding.”

Clint goes perfectly still and slowly turns his eyes back to Phil. “What wedding?”

“I was thinking they could fly out for the wedding - December the 14th - and stay through the New Year,” Phil continues, ignoring Clint’s question. “I don’t think Stark and the others will mind having them around. We can get away for a few days and then -”

“Phil!” Clint interrupts. “I think there’s a very important discussion I seem to have missed.”

Phil smiles and opens a desk drawer to grab a black velvet box, smile widening when he hears a thud as Clint’s ass hits the floor. He’s looking between Phil and the box with wide eyes.

“Phil...”

Phil moves to sit next to Clint and opens the box. Inside are two matching wedding bands. The jeweler has re-forged the original band into two rings, each now interwoven with white gold - the yellow and white twisting together around the ring so smoothly that you cannot tell where one begins and one ends. 

“Phil...” Clint says again.

Phil takes a hold of Clint’s trembling hand. “I love you, Clint. I know that neither of us is going anywhere, but I’d like to make it official. Will you marry me?”

Clint nearly upends them when he surges forward to kiss Phil. The archer buries his fingers in Phil’s hair, breathes “Yes, I’ll marry you” against his lips, and deepens the kiss. Phil returns the kiss, hands grasping at Clint’s arms and then his back - the ring box temporarily forgotten on the floor. 

Clint breaks away suddenly and stands, breath coming in gasps. He bends to pick up the box and lay it reverently on the desk before pulling Phil to his feet. Clint gives Phil another hard kiss before pulling back with a grin.

“You better call Fury,” Clint says and Phil frowns in confusion. “Cancel your meeting for the morning.”

Phil grins and reaches for his phone. “What reason should I give for cancelling?” Phil asks cheekily. 

“I don’t really care,” Clint responds with a slow smile. “But my _fiance_ is going to be too busy making love to me to read any more reports tonight.”

Phil sends a quick text to Fury and spends the rest of the night, and much of the next day, happily not reading reports.

_fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone that has been following along with this fic. This has truly been a labor of love for me and your wonderful response to it has been amazing!


End file.
